Four Things That Mattered
by sablecain
Summary: ATF- the conclusion to the Townsend Series-- Townsend has been put away but Ezra ends up in trouble. Is it the beginning of Townsend’s revenge?
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue - Pawn or Prize**

Disclaimer: the M7 characters belong to MGM, Trilogy and Mirisch, No copyright infringement is intended

I am combining the last two stories of the Townsend Series because the fourth part "pawn or prize" is rather short and leads directly into the fifth part of the series.

* * *

Ezra moved his head out from the warm spray of the shower and paused, straining to hear over the water. After a moment, he ducked back under the shower, deciding that the sound was all in his imagination.

The water felt good as it washed away the stress of a long day. Fridays were usually relaxing days at the office but it'd seemed like an entire week's worth of tension had built up for Standish today alone. First there was the computer problems that delayed his paperwork and then his phone had gone haywire causing him to miss god knew how many calls. By the time the end of the day had rolled around he'd been more than ready for a night at the Saloon with the team…except that the guys all had other plans.

Ezra rinsed the shampoo from his hair and turned his face into the water again. He supposed he could have gone out on his own but instead he'd come straight home and now he was actually looking forward to a quiet night, a bowl of cocoa crispies and some inane TV movie of the week.

Hearing the change in water pressure, Ezra turned the flow off before the temperature ran cold. Quickly he dried off and slipped into a clean pair of boxers and his most comfortable sweatpants. He moved toward the kitchen, pausing once in the hallway as a sense of unease settled over him. Casting a quick glance into his spare room and computer room he moved on and checked the living room. The blinds of the sliding glass doors were open, affording him a clear view of his patio and small yard. Nothing seemed amiss and yet he still couldn't shake the niggling feeling that something was wrong. Finally, he sighed and shook his head, inwardly cursing himself for bringing the stress of the day home with him. He grabbed the remote from the coffee table and flipped on the evening news, listening to the stuffed shirt behind the broadcasting desk while he entered the kitchen.

The linoleum was cold on his bare feet reminding him the spring wasn't quite here yet. Quickly, Ezra grabbed a bowl and spoon from the drainer and set them on the counter. He had just grasped the box of chocolate cereal in his hand when he heard a noise behind him and spun around. The first blow caught him before he'd turned completely, sending him back into the counter. The second blow sent him into darkness, insuring that he offered no resistance.

* * *

Chris glanced at his watch and then at his phone again, his fingers drumming rhythmically on the desktop in a beat that would have driven him mad if it'd been coming from anyone else. The phone rang suddenly, startling him despite the fact he'd been waiting for it.

"Buck?" he answered anxiously.

"He's not here."

From Buck's tone, Chris knew it was bad. He'd started out annoyed when Ezra didn't show up for work on time, but it was Monday and Standish had never been much for punctuality. By 11:30 the annoyance had turned to anger. Even Ezra usually had the decency to call when he was going to be that late. The anger was displaced with concern when Standish didn't answer home or cell phones, and none of the team had seen him since early Friday evening.

"What else?" He heard Buck swallow nervously.

"The TV was on and the place was open."

"Not locked up?"

"Nope."

"Any sign of a struggle?" Chris ran a hand over his face as multiple scenarios ran through his head.

"There's a box of cereal spilled all over the kitchen floor and Vin found blood on the counter

A shiver ran through Chris. "How serious?"

"Not a lot," Buck's reassurance was weak.

"Call the authorities and get right back here," Larabee ordered. He had no idea where they'd start looking but he knew he needed all his men available.

"We're on our way."

"What's going on, Chris?"

Chris looked up at the sound of Josiah's voice. "The place was empty." He met the profiler's gaze. "There are small signs of a struggle, nothing definitive."

"Want us to start putting out feelers?" Sanchez questioned, his voice calm though his expression betrayed his concern.

"Yeah, check for anything out of the ordinary." Chris paused, frowning. "Oh and one of you find out what Maude is up to these days.

Josiah nodded somberly and headed back into the main office.

The phone rang again and Chris stared at it a moment, deciding whether he really wanted to answer it or not. "Larabee," he answered finally.

"Agent Larabee? This is Agent Ronnie Woodworth of the FBI."

Chris scowled, trying to remember where he heard the name before as the man continued, "We worked together on the Townsend case."

"I remember." Chris closed his eyes, knowing suddenly that things were even worse than he imagined.

Woodworth was talking again. "I needed to let you know that Brian Townsend was released Thursday morning on bail."

"What the hell do you mean he was released?" Chris hissed into the phone, wishing it was possible to reach the other man physically. "Besides gun trafficking and child abuse, the man was in for attempted murder of a federal agent!"

"I don't know the reasons, Larabee!" Woodworth spit back. "I just know he was released and figured you'd appreciate the update, knowing your team's history with the man."

Chris bit back a litany of curses. "Why am I just hearing about this now?" If he'd known Townsend was out, he never would have left Ezra on his own all weekend. All weekend…had Ezra been missing the entire weekend without anyone even knowing he was in danger?

"We were just informed of the development this morning. I called you as soon as I could. I'll keep you updated."

"How kind," Chris snarled as he slammed the phone back onto the cradle. It rang again instantly and he grabbed it.

"Larabee!" he snapped.

"Ouch. Cantankerous today aren't we? Missing someone, Agent Larabee?"

"Townsend, you…" Chris started but was cut off abruptly.

"Don't be a fool, Larabee. Just shut up and listen. You'll find Standish if you're smart enough. He's closer than you think."

"I'll kill you myself." Chris rose to his feet.

"Oh you'll want to, but this is my game of revenge, Agent. You started it when you tried to take me down, so get ready to play. I let him live this round…that's if you get to him before it's too late Think of this as a reminder of who's in control. Until next time…"

Chris threw the phone, his anger soaring with Townsend's taunts. "Buck! Vin! Josiah! Get everyone in here now!" he yelled, seeing that Wilmington and Tanner were back. He turned in frustration, glancing out the window as he wondered what Townsend had meant when he said Ezra was closer than they thought…and froze. Fear and shock rocketed through him. He stared, unable to comprehend what he was seeing.

Across the street, from roof of the fifteen-story bank building, Ezra hung, suspended upside down by a thick rope that was knotted around his ankles. Standish was bound, duct tape striping his body at his ankles, knees and chest. He was shirtless and Chris could see the bloody cuts and bruises that dotted his bare chest despite the distance between them. Ezra swayed gently in the steady wind, half of his abused face was covered with a duct tape gag, and Chris couldn't tell if he was conscious or not.

Helplessness washed over Larabee before he snapped out of his daze. He ran, pushing past Buck and knocking the larger man back into the wall.

"Chris?" Buck questioned loudly as Chris rushed out of the office.

Vin looked from the door of the outer office to Buck and then into Chris' office, searching for answers. "Shit!" he gasped at the sight and was following Larabee at a run "Call for help!" he shouted to the others as he disappeared.

In seconds, Nathan, Buck and JD were following Chris and Vin to the roof of the next building while Josiah stayed behind. Quickly, Sanchez dialed 911 and moved to the window. He placed one large hand flat against the glass, wishing he had the power to reach through it and grab onto his injured friend. "We're coming, Ezra. We're coming," he whispered, his eyes never straying from Ezra's form.

"Ezra!" Chris burst out onto the roof with a shout, forgetting that Ezra couldn't respond. He scanned the area, searching for the rope that held Standish. He found it just as Vin joined him. "There." Chris hurried across the roof and peered over the edge as Vin knelt to examine where the rope was tied off.

"It's fraying," he told Chris fearfully. "We can't wait for the fire department."

"Who said anything about waiting?" Buck asked, coming up behind them.

"We can get him." JD insisted, peaking over the edge.

"We're here, Ezra!" Chris shouted down at Standish. "We'll get you up here in no time." They were fifteen stories up and Ezra was dangling down four.

Nathan stepped up and grabbed Larabee's arm. "Be careful," he warned. "We don't know what condition he's in and can't go banging him against the building."

"We won't," Vin stated confidently as he motioned where he wanted Buck to grab onto the line.

For Chris, it felt like time was crawling. He could only imagine how Ezra was feeling. Carefully they maneuvered the battered man closer to their grasp. Josiah joined them, and with his added muscle they were able to move quicker. As soon as Ezra's feet were within reach, Chris and Vin grabbed a hold of him. As they eased Ezra over the ledge and onto the safety of the roof they could hear the sirens approaching.

Ezra barely flinched but his eyes remained closed tightly as Nathan quickly removed the tape covering his mouth. Josiah and Buck worked on the bindings around his legs while Chris freed his arms. "You're going to be okay, Ezra. We got you," Chris murmured, thankful his friend was conscious as he worked to warm the icy limbs. His anger boiled as he saw the abuse Ezra had suffered up close. It was obvious that the undercover agent had been well worked over.

Ezra's swollen eyes blinked open and met Chris' gaze. "Tow'sed," he rasped hoarsely.

"JD, get some water," Nathan ordered.

"We know," Chris whispered, ignoring the surprised expressions of the others and helping support Ezra as the Southerner tried to sit up.

"Lay still," Nathan reprimanded gently.

Ezra shook his head, wincing at the movement. "He's playing game." He looked at Chris again, fear flashing in his bloodshot eyes before he recovered his control. "Am I the pawn or prize?"

Chris felt the others watching him and waiting for his response but he didn't look away from Ezra. "Neither if I can help it," he promised, smiling gently as Ezra accepted his word and closed his eyes again, relaxing into Nathan's care. Chris cast a glance at the others, catching the fierce outrage and determination in their faces. Townsend might think he was in control, but he'd screwed with the wrong team. He might try and force them to play in his game, but he sure as hell wasn't going to force them to play by his rules.

tbc...

a/n- this portion answered a challenge to have a character 'on the edge' - we had to have them stuck up high somewhere!


	2. Chapter 2

_**Four Things that Mattered**_

**

* * *

  
**

"Mr. Standish. Mr. Standish, I have something that will help you rest easier."

Ezra opened one eye and squinted at the soft-spoken woman holding a small plastic cup containing two white pills. Dressed in bright blue scrub pants, her coordinating short sleeved top was covered with geometric shapes that seemed to merge and blend like a kaleidoscope. He felt ill looking at it. A rectangular name tag read Susan Brink, RN.

Susan shook the plastic cup lightly and smiled as she presented it to him. "You look like you're starting to feel better," she stated in a stage whisper while reaching for his ever-full mug of water. Her blond ponytail bobbed cheerfully as she glanced at the measurements on the side of the plastic container. "You need to drink more water," she admonished gently.

Ezra didn't respond but took the pills obediently, following them with an extra sip of water to appease her. Susan wasn't fooled by the lack luster effort but kept her encouraging smile regardless. "Do you need anything else right now?" she asked politely, tossing the medicine cup into the lined basket beside the bed stand.

"No, thank you." He really wanted her to just let him get back to sleep. She nodded and dimmed the light above his bed until it was nothing more than a weak glow and moved away. Her soft-soled sneakers squeaked once on the floor when she stopped in front of the chair JD slept in and adjusted the blanket around his shoulders. One last smile in Ezra's direction and she was gone, closing the heavy door quietly behind her.

Ezra watched JD sleep, slouched awkwardly in the only cushioned chair in the small private room. He debated waking his young friend, but decided against it. JD seemed to be able to sleep anywhere. Instead, Ezra relaxed against his pillows and closed his eyes. He couldn't wait until he was home and into his own bed again. Five days felt like an eternity and although the hard, narrow hospital bed was a step up from the cement floor he'd endured when Townsend had him…it certainly was a far cry from home.

His mind flashed to those last few moments at home before his world had spun off course. He still didn't know how Townsend's goons had gained access to his condo, only that one minute he'd been reaching for the cocoa crispies and the next… He shivered and adjusted the covers, pulling them up around his chest, careful of how he moved the hand with the IV still in it. He hated the thing and every other time he moved he seemed to be setting off the alarm. Sighing, he tried to think about sleep instead of Townsend. Pushing the ordeal behind him would be easier if he didn't remember the entire thing. Even though two days had passed since Chris and the others had pulled him up, he still occasionally was overwhelmed with vertigo.

A feeling of helplessness washed over him again; panic rising momentarily at the memory of seeing the street far below him. He pushed the fear way and refocused, angry again that Townsend had suddenly been able to make bail. The bastard was on the streets again. Chris had taken the time to fill him in on the latest information once he'd been settled into his room. Strained ribs, concussion, bruised kidney…none of it as bad as it could have been, but the doctor had insisted on observation for a few days. Ezra just hoped tomorrow would be his ticket home.

Chris had assured him that whether assigned or not, they were definitely on this case. Josiah and Nathan were already scouring over the history of the judge who had granted bail, searching for any connection with Townsend while the rest of the team was trying to track Townsend electronically and on the street. So far, there's been no sign of the guy, thus every night someone stayed with Ezra. They still didn't know why Townsend had left Ezra alive. Tonight the job fell to JD to baby-sit.

Ezra had just begun to drift with the slight effects of the medication when he heard the soft swoosh of the door opening again. He smelt the aroma of a chain smoker and immediately tensed, adrenaline kicking in as he heard the hard-soled footsteps slowly enter the room and pause near JD. Cracking one eye open he knew he didn't recognize the silhouette.

In one fluid movement he was out of bed. "JD!" he shouted as the IV ripped from his hand, the alarm began blaring. He was almost on the assailant when the larger man turned sharply, lashing out with his gun. At the same time, Ezra's feet slipped on the slick floor. The blow that was meant to crush, side swiped his throat as he fell. His world exploded in pain. His throat throbbed and he gagged gasping for breath. His hand bled freely as he wrapped one arm around his abused ribs. He tried to hear what was happening to JD over the roaring in his ears and his own strained effort to breathe. Alarms were sounding, people were shouting, someone was struggling. He tried to push himself up onto his knees but his body wouldn't cooperate. He had to get to JD…he had to breathe.

* * *

"You're very lucky, son." Dr. Mackie was probably only in his early 50's but the shocking white head of hair gave him a grandfatherly bearing. Ezra tried to remain still as the man gently prodded his neck and throat. He opened his mouth to speak but his breath caught, sending him into a fit of silent coughing as he fought to breathe properly again. It felt like he was being slowly strangled.

"Now I told you, no talking." The doctor put his hand on Ezra's shoulder, helping to support him as his breathing evened out. Josiah stepped closer to the bed, but Ezra waved him off with his free hand. Nathan looked on from the cushioned chair, his eyes wide with concern. "You all right now? Blink twice for yes."

Ezra rolled his eyes but blinked accordingly.

"Good. Now listen." Dr. Mackie helped him sit back against the raised bed and waited to make sure he had the complete attention of all three men. "I know you want to get out of here," Mackie said. "But you were this close to intubation." He held up his fingers holding his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. "Right now you need to relax and focus on rest. Let those IV meds do their job and absolutely NO talking." Ezra cast an imploring glance at Josiah as the doctor made a note on his chart.

"Don't even think about it, Brother," Josiah warned.

"I'll be back to check on you on my next rounds. If you need anything you ring for help." Mackie looked at Ezra warningly one last time before he left the room. The room was silent as the door swept closed behind him. Ezra ranted inwardly. How did they expect him to just sit here when JD was missing? When he'd let JD be taken right out from under his nose? What was wrong with him lately? First it was in his own home and now…now he'd let JD down, and he knew Townsend. He knew what the man was capable of doing!

Frustrated, Ezra punched the uncomfortable mattress.

"Relax, Ezra." Nathan stood and stretched, glancing at his watch. "You get riled up again and you're gonna have a hard time breathing."

"He's right." Josiah touched his shoulder lightly. "Chris, Vin and Buck are doing everything they can to find JD. He's going to be okay."

Ezra closed his eyes. 'No' he snapped his first two fingers against his thumb like he was working a hand puppet.

Josiah raised and eyebrow, a slow smile creeping across his face.

Ezra ignored the older man's expression and pointed to Nathan and then Josiah. He held up his IV'd hand, palm up and with his other hand made a fist with his thumb extended. He placed the fist in the palm of his other hand and raised both. He pointed to the door and then repeated the sign.

Josiah shook his head. "We're not leaving you. Leaving you here to help find JD will only make you an open target for Townsend."

Nathan looked at the two, confusion written clearly in his expression. "How do you know sign language?" he asked incredulously.

Ezra hesitated a minute, searching the healer's face for any ridicule and then his hand began moving. Nathan tried to follow as Standish's right hand moved from his left palm up to his forehead and then seemed to twist. He thought he caught what might have been the sign for 'in' but then Ezra clapped one hand down on the other twice. He paused again before moving his hands toward each other, his fingers almost interlocking. He repeated the movement a couple of times. Nathan opened his mouth to ask what he'd said but Ezra's hands were moving again. This time his fingers touched his lips and then his cheek.

Nathan stared a moment, frowning that he couldn't figure out the graceful gestures before he looked at Josiah for help.

"Been a long time," Josiah warned with a soft chuckle. "He said he learned in school, had a deaf roommate?" His voice rose into a question to be sure he'd interpreted correctly.

Ezra raised his right hand as a fist and made a knocking motion "Yes" Josiah said for him.

"And you?" Nathan pointed at Josiah.

"Picked it up here and there." The large profiler shrugged evasively, earning a dirty look from Ezra.

"Sure. Fine." Nathan put his hands on his hips. "That works great for you two…but I'm getting you a white board." He pointed at Ezra and left the room mumbling about secrets and what couldn't 'that damn southerner' do?

Josiah sat back down in the plastic chair closest to Ezra's bed. "I think you surprised him again."

'I know,' Ezra signed weakly, trying to suppress a yawn.

"You okay?"

Ezra waited a minute then raised his fist to his chin and twisted.

"Sore?"

'Yes.' Ezra's hands flew again with a sudden burst of speed and energy.

'Worried.'  
'Angry.'  
'Frustrated.'

"Hey calm down." Josiah reached over and caught one hand before Ezra could keep going. "This isn't your fault." He ignored Ezra's sarcastic expression. "Put the blame on Townsend where it belongs."

Ezra pulled his hand free. 'Wants me.' He signed choppily, setting the alarm on his IV off. He stared at the beeping monitor angrily--his chain to a hospital bed. He needed to be out with the others, looking for JD and hunting down Townsend.

Sanchez didn't say anything as a nurse entered the room and checked Ezra's hand. She mumbled something about the need for extra caution since he'd torn out the first IV. Ezra watched her carefully as she keyed in a code in the machine. When she left again, Josiah was still watching him.

'Stop.' He signed, bringing the edge of his right hand down into his left palm.

"Stop what?" Josiah inquired.

'Looking at me,' Ezra signed angrily. 'Call Chris.' He spelled out Larabee's name. He was anxious for any word on the search for JD. They had no real leads, nothing but Ezra's account of the attack.

"I'll be right back," Josiah said as he rose and reached for his cell phone. "Stay put," he ordered before heading outside to find a safe place to use the phone.

Ezra made a face and brushed the tip of his nose with his first two fingers… 'Funny.'

* * *

Buck paced the abandoned office anxiously while Vin and Chris ransacked the desk and filing cabinets. It was one of Townsend's less than legitimate sales offices and had recently been abandoned. The trio knew they were close to Townsend. All the signs pointed to the fact that the dealer was gathering what assets he could get his hands on before he skipped bail and fled the country. They had the airports on alert, along with the bus and train stations. Highway patrol had set up road checks at the state borders but none of it-nothing had brought them any closer to finding JD.

Buck ran a hand roughly through his uncombed hair and spun on his heel, heading back in the direction he'd come. He wracked his brain, trying to come up with any place Townsend could have stashed the Kid and prayed they weren't going to find a grave.

Chris' phone rang cutting through the tension and startling all three of them. "Larabee," he answered sharply, his cool eyes flashing from Vin to Buck. All three of them were exhausted. The hospital had called just after midnight the night before about the attack and they'd been on the go ever since. All in jeans and t-shirts, they looked like they'd been living in the same clothes for a week now. "Josiah," Chris acknowledged, letting them know who was on the line. "How's he doing?"

Vin watched Chris' expression carefully, searching for signs of bad news. The last time they'd called in for an update, Ezra had been stable but borderline and the doctor's were discussing the possibility of have to put him on a tube to help him breathe. Vin shivered at the thought.

Chris' eyes crinkled up in the corners as he grinned and shook his head. "I bet," he said softly. "Take care of him. Make him stay put," he ordered. Seriousness returned quickly. "No, not yet. We're close to the bastard, but we've got no sign of JD. We'll get him though. Yeah, we'll bring him home."

Chris looked at Buck who nodded determinedly and then Vin who winked. He shook his head and smiled again. "We're hanging in. Alright. Later." He snapped the phone closed and put it back in the leather case clipped to his belt.

"Ezra okay?" Buck asked.

"Yeah." Chris nodded. "They got him on IV stuff to keep the swelling in his throat down. He's been ordered not to talk."

Vin laughed. "Bet he hates that."

"He does." Chris started thumbing through files again. "Keeps trying to send Josiah and Nate out to help us find JD."

"Can't leave him alone," Buck pointed out knowingly.

"That's what Josiah told him, so he ordered him to call me."

"How'd he do that?" Vin asked curiously.

"Would you believe the man knows sign language?" Chris looked up and grinned at their surprise.

"You're kidding," Buck said.

"Nope, freaked Nate out-said he was buying Ez a white board."

Vin shook his head. "Man's full of secrets."

Chris' phone rang gain.

"What now?" Buck asked quietly as Larabee answered it.

Vin leaned against a filing cabinet and waited. He was ready for something happen. He needed to get his hands on Brian Townsend.

"Where?" The tone of Chris' voice snapped both Tanner and Wilmington into alertness. "No hang on. We'll be there in fifteen."

"What is it?" Buck questioned. "JD?"

Larabee shook his head. "No, troopers think they have Townsend cornered at his airport."

"No sign of JD?" Vin asked as they hurried out of the small dirty office.

"No." The answer was ominous. None of them wanted to think of the negative possibilities.

* * *

The hospital room was overwhelmingly still. The heavy silence broken only by Josiah's occasional deep snoring. It was driving Ezra crazy. He glanced at the phone again; frustrated that it wouldn't ring. It'd been hours since Buck had called to tell them the airport raid had been a bust. They'd picked up a lot of Townsend's men but the man himself was keeping out of sight…and there'd still been no sign of JD.

Josiah snored loudly from the cushioned chair, slouched awkwardly with his head thrown back, Ezra wasn't sure how Sanchez managed to keep from sliding out of the pale green atrocity. Nathan, tired of the profiler's snores had gone in search of food. He'd been gone for twenty minutes.

Ezra fingered the whiteboard Jackson had purchased for him earlier. He found it amusing that signing seemed to unsettle the healer so much. He guessed that maybe Nathan didn't like not knowing exactly what was being said around him.

The door of his room swooshed open suddenly, startling him slightly. He smiled sheepishly at the young candy striper holding a huge floral arrangement. "Ezra Standish?" she asked shyly, keeping her voice low. Her dark brown hair had started to escape her French braid and framed her face charmingly.

Ezra waved her in and motioned to the tray table within his reach. The teen smiled, eager to set the heavy arrangement down and fluffed the flowers a bit before handing him the card that had come with it.

'Thank you,' he wrote on the board and held it up for her to read.

"You're welcome." She cast a nervous glance at Josiah and tried to suppress a giggle as she left the room as quietly as she'd entered.

Ezra looked at the expensive arrangement as he opened the small envelope, wondering whom it was from. The white wicker basket was filled to capacity with artfully positioned flowers. He recognized the roses, carnations and yellow daisies but couldn't remember what the purple things were called. The business sized card he pulled from the envelope had an ornately scripted "with deepest sympathies" across the top. He frowned.

"Ezra, So sorry for you loss…or am I? Why would I care about your young friend when it's you I really want? Up for a trade? The Market St. property-I'll be waiting with Mr. Dunne. He really is a handsome young man, isn't he?"

Ezra's vision blurred with fury, the tiny piece of card stock crumpling in his tight fist. He had to help JD. A quick check at Sanchez assured him the older man was till sleeping soundly. "Josiah," he whispered softly, testing his ability to speak. His throat tightened and he suppressed a cough. He'd have to improvise.

Quickly Ezra keyed in the code he'd seen the nurses use on the IV monitor and then proceeded with care to remove the cursed thing from his hand. He moved slowly, a combination of caution against waking Josiah and the soreness of his own body. He found suitable clothing in a duffle bag that one of the guys had kindly stashed in the room's small closet. The sweatpants and long sleeved t-shirt were both a little oversized but they worked better than his opened backed hospital gown. He would make the sneakers work.

He took the stairs, afraid of running into Nathan on the elevators. He knew they'd both be furious with him but he didn't have a choice, not really. He was the one Townsend wanted. He used the whiteboard to get someone in the main lobby to call him a cab and then stood on the curb to wait. The evening air was cool and almost took his breath away but it felt good to be out of the sterile little room. He didn't know exactly how he was going to deal with Townsend; he knew he was walking into a trap. He scrawled his address on the white board when he saw the cab approaching. First he'd go home, get into properly fitting clothes and get his car… by then maybe he'd have come up with a plan.

* * *

"Where is he?" Nathan scanned the room as he swatted Josiah's arm. He spotted the abandoned IV and knew it was a lost cause to even search the bathroom. "That son of a bitch," he growled, his worry intensifying. "Josiah, wake up!" He hit Sanchez again, hard this time.

"What?" Josiah sat up, rubbing his eyes grumpily.

"Any idea where he'd go?" Nathan waved to the empty bed as he tried to think of what would drive Ezra to flee the hospital. He knew Standish didn't like the place, but the man was usually smart enough to understand the importance of proper medical treatment.

"He's gone?" Josiah looked confused and then hurt. Ezra had snuck out on his watch; he'd thought they'd developed more trust than that. "Where'd that come from?" he asked pushing himself to his feet. "Wasn't here before—you don't think?" Panic flared at the thought that Townsend might have waltzed right in and grabbed Ezra while he was sleeping.

Nathan shook his head. "No. You'd have heard that, Ezra would have fought." He picked up the hospital gown Ezra's left on the bed and saw the small crumpled card hidden beneath it. Smoothing it out, he read it then passed it to Sanchez as he reached for the phone.

"Oh God." Josiah reread the small print a second time as fear swelled inside. He knew Ezra. He knew that for all his self-serving airs, the southerner wouldn't hesitated to trade himself JD, even if he knew he was walking into a trap. They had to find Market Street. "Dear God, let us be on time," he prayed as he listened to Nathan explain what had happened to Chris. "Please, don't let us lose either of them."

* * *

JD seethed. He'd been listening to Brian Townsend for hours…prattling on about his big game of vengeance… how he was going to destroy Ezra. JD pulled at the ropes that bound him tightly to the straight-backed chair. His head throbbed and his ribs ached from the beatings he'd received before Townsend's goons had mysteriously abandoned the small cabin. It had hurt but he'd endured worse before. He was more pissed off than anything else. Pissed that he'd fallen asleep at the hospital, pissed that he'd been caught off guard and pissed that he still didn't know if Ezra was okay. The last thing he remembered was Standish screaming his name and going down on the floor then everything had gone black. He'd woken up in this dump, endured a couple of sessions as punching bag and listened to the pompous idiot, Townsend, rant.

He hated him. Hated the way Brian Townsend talked about Ezra. Hated the insinuations, hated the fact that the bastard was using him as bait. He hoped Ezra wouldn't come...but he knew he would. He swallowed dryly, wishing for the millionth time that he could just work the gag off his mouth. He had a few choice things he wanted to say to Townsend. A pang in his ribs twinged and he squeezed his eyes closed until it passed, okay maybe it was a good thing he couldn't aggravate anyone further with smart assed comments. Man, he just wished someone would show up soon to get him out of here…anyone but Ezra.

A soft knock on the door startled both captor and captive but when Townsend peered cautiously through the peephole he started to laugh. "Smug SOB ain't he?" Aiming his weapon at JD, Townsend unlocked the door and held it open. "Come on in, Agent Standish. We've been waiting for you."

Ezra stepped easily into the room as if there was no threat at all, his relief at seeing JD alive dampened only by his young friend's obvious mistreatment. Bruises speckled Dunne's face, a cut above his left eye bled freely leaving a ghastly red trail down the side of his head. A swatch of gray duct tape crudely covered his mouth, forcing him to try and breathe through a battered and swollen nose.

Ignoring Townsend, Ezra moved to his friend and nodded once in warning before ripping the gag off tender skin. JD gasped but didn't cry out.

"That's enough," Townsend spoke as he closed the door. "Move over there." Ezra touched JD's shoulder lightly, their eyes meeting briefly before he moved as directed.

It'd taken him longer than he'd wanted to get to his condo, change into better fitting clothing and arm himself appropriately. He hadn't realized driving would take so much out of him, but thankfully he'd been able to remember how to find Market St., a fancy name for a dirt road. Townsend's small hunting cabin was listed in the files of research the team had on him…they'd be here soon.

Ezra glared at Brian Townsend. "Let him go." The faint raspy whisper made him sound lethal. "You wanted a trade- you have it."

"Ezra, no!" JD looked frantically between Standish and Townsend. Why had Ezra walked into such an obvious trap?

Townsend laughed, his eyes bright with the adrenaline of power. He waved his weapon between the two agents, refocusing it finally at Dunne. "You really are stupid," he told Ezra. He huffed and cocked the weapon. "Remove your weapons and place them on the table next to you."

Ezra cast a glance at JD and then did as he was told, laying two service revolvers and his ankle number on the table.

"Step over there." Townsend waved the gun again and Ezra moved accordingly. His gait was awkward and he breathed shallowly. "You ruined everything you know." Townsend looked deranged in the cabin's soft light. His clothing was wrinkled and dirty, his hair uncombed. "I offered you the world." He pointed the gun at Ezra, "and you put me away."

Ezra shrugged casually. "I will again." His voice caught painfully as he whispered.

Townsend grinned evilly, suddenly filled with renewed confidence at the sign of Ezra's weakness. "Problems agent?" He motioned with the gun. "On your knees."

JD swallowed back a scream of indignation and frustration as Ezra slowly knelt on the dusty floor. It was obvious the southerner was hurt, moving with caution, visibly trembling and unable to even talk. It tore Dunne to see his friend acquiesce so willingly to Townsend…because of him. He struggled again with his bindings, reopening cuts and breaking the skin of his wrists in new places.

"Keep still, Agent Dunne." Townsend barely acknowledged him.

Ezra glanced at JD, pleadingly and JD forced himself to be still.

Townsend sneered at Ezra. "You're pathetic." He spit. "Did you actually think I would let him go?" He stepped close to Standish and nudged his chin with the gun. "I'm going to destroy you Standish." He turned abruptly and advanced on JD, pressing the barrel of the weapon against the restrained agent's temple. Ezra's eyes widened with fear.

"You can't handle watching can you, Ezra?" Townsend smiled knowingly. "I figured it out after our last encounter. I can do whatever the hell I want to you and get no reaction but touch someone you care about…" He touched JD's hair lightly with his free hand, his fingers weaving through the dark strands.

Both Ezra and JD tensed. Townsend chuckled and tapped JD's temple with the gun. "Those children tore at you when you were Eli, didn't they Standish? My little girls? The ones you took away—do you really think you saved them?" His grip tightened on JD's hair and Dunne grimaced. "Couldn't bare to watch me with them, couldn't handle seeing them hurt, and they were total strangers. How much more devastating will it be when its one of your own?" He lowered his face close to JD's and inhaled slowly. "You're going to watch him die," he whispered softly, closing his eyes and savoring the moment. "You're going to live with that memory forever."

"Like hell I will." Ezra's low whisper broke the unsettled silence of the cabin an instant before Townsend heard the mechanical click. His eyes opened as he instinctively changed his aim from JD to Ezra but even as he fired he knew it was too late.

"Ezra? Ezra!" JD shouted frantically. Townsend was sprawled on the floor beside his chair, a small, deadly hole marring the middle of his forehead. "Ezra?" JD shouted again, struggling with the ropes that tied him and scuffing his chair against the floor in an effort to drag himself closer to his friend.

Ezra lay in the same spot he'd been kneeling in a minute before. He tried to wave a hand toward JD to signal that he was alright but he couldn't seem to move. His body felt heavy and his vision blurred. He heard shouting and then recognized the familiar voices and let himself go…he was out of strength.

He was never aware of Vin unstrapping the antique derringer rigging from one arm while Nathan bandaged the small wound where Townsend's bullet had streaked across his upper arm. He never heard JD's report of the events or Buck's emotionally whispered "thank you" as the paramedics loaded him into the ambulance. He didn't hear Josiah's relieved "Thank God" when the doctor announced they wouldn't have to intubate and he never heard Chris' gently voiced, "Rest now, Ezra. You did good."

Instead, Ezra slept soundly; aware of only four things that mattered…JD was alive. He was alive. Townsend was dead and it was all finally over.

* * *

hope you enjoyed the series. This story was also a challenge answer- had to give a character a physical disability of some kind.

Thank you for reading.


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